A Heart Split in Two
by Midgitte
Summary: Ororo has a past with Hank. She's working on a future with Logan when, once again, the world of mutants is turned upside down and Hank returns to the school...and to Ororo's life.
1. The not too distant past

The not-too-distant past…

"I'm _never_ going to understand this!" said seventeen-year-old Ororo Munroe disparagingly. In a rare show of anger that shocked her three classmates, she slammed her algebra textbook shut and threw it across the table. Scott Summers caught it and opened it to the page that Ororo had been struggling with. He got up from his seat and came to her side.

"C'mon, 'Roro, it's easy!" he encouraged her; "I can show you how to do all of this."

"Yes, but can you take the test for me?" she asked in defeat.

"She has a point, you know," Henry McCoy looked up from his English homework, "Ms. McAlister's tests never make any sense; she teaches us one thing in class and then her tests are on something completely different."

"I wish I would've taken honors algebra," agreed Ororo, "At least then, I'd be getting a worthwhile credit for all of my hard work."

"Please, 'Roro, you couldn't survive in honors algebra anymore than I could in your honors history class," Jean Grey piped up.

"I wish I didn't have to take basic algebra," complained Henry, "I was never 'basic' in anything until I came here and flunked out of the honors class."

"Hank and I shouldn't have to bother with algebra at all. We're English and history people. When are we ever going to use this in everyday life? It's not as though I'm going to be a mathematician!" said Ororo.

"Yeah, but you have to learn it for the same reason that Scott and I have to sit through history class," Jean told her, "Because Professor Xavier wants all of us to have a well-rounded education."

Ororo sighed and fell against the back of her chair. She looked up at Scott and raised an eyebrow as if to say, "All right, fine. Educate me." He smiled and sat down next to his friend, pointing at the first problem on the page and taking her pencil from her hand.

"OK, so, before you can solve the actual problem, you have to find these two answers," he used the pencil to point at the numbers and then made some notes in Ororo's binder. Jean came around to watch Scott as he tutored the other girl, to make sure that he wasn't confusing her too badly. She was of the opinion that Scott would make an excellent teacher one day…if he would simply learn to slow down with his instructions and make sure that his students were following him.

After another half hour under the tutelage of her friends, Ororo found that, although her understanding of the entire process was still only minimal, she wasn't as bothered by it as she had been. Now, she could actually sit down and take the time to solve the problem without making a thousand errors that only angered her and impeded her progress.

"Umm, hey, I hate to interrupt," Hank said, closing his binder and tucking it into his backpack, "but we've only got about an hour until dinner, and after that, we have to stay in our rooms. Our psychology projects are due tomorrow and Ororo and I are only about half-finished with ours."

"Oh, damn," Jean cried, rushing to pick up her books, "Anna and I still need to work on ours, too!" Quickly, she ran out of the library and began her search for her biology partner.

"Am I the only one here who's capable of getting things done on time and not waiting until the night before they're due?" Scott asked in annoyance.

"Looks that way, buddy," replied Hank as he and Ororo gathered their things and left.

xXx

Ororo was stretched out on the floor of the room that Hank shared with Scott and another guy, both of whom were currently elsewhere in the mansion. She was glad for this, because the last thing that she needed right now was a distraction of any kind. Hank, on the other hand, had been distracted from the moment that it had dawned on him that he had finally gotten Ororo Munroe into his bedroom.

"I wish we could have come up with something more exciting than a report and a diagram for our project," said Ororo wistfully, taking another sip from her glass of water and returning to her description of the physical manifestations of tourettes syndrome.

"Yeah, well, that's what Mr. Dickens gets for assigning us a project at the same time as every other teacher," Hank replied, "I've got chemistry and history projects that I haven't even started yet, and I just finished my English term paper. Sometimes I think that they all get together in the teachers' lounge and discuss possible strategies for maximizing our stress levels."

Ororo giggled. "Actually, I wouldn't put it past them. I've been going insane lately trying to keep up with all of my assignments." She reached behind her to knead a sore spot on her neck. Lately, all of the tension that she was feeling with regards to her schoolwork had begun to do its damage on her body. Ororo jumped as she felt another hand on her back, but then relaxed when she realized that it was only Hank, and that he was massaging away a knot in her shoulders that had been there for so long that she didn't even notice it anymore.

"You smoke?" he asked. Ororo turned around to look at him in disbelief.

"What?"

"Oh, uhh…nothing, just forget it," he stammered, removing his hands from her body and going back to the diagram.

"No, I didn't mean it in a bad way," she said, "Jean and I used to bum cigarettes all the time and smoke them in our room, but Scott convinced her to quit, so I just went ahead and quit, too. I don't like to smoke alone; I guess it reminds me of being depressed or something. I was just surprised to learn that you smoke."

Hank smiled and went to his dresser drawer, pulling a pack of Camels from underneath a pile of t-shirts and tossing the pack to Ororo, along with a red lighter.

"Looks like you've got a new smoking partner," he said after she lit her cigarette and handed the pack to him. He pulled one out and put it to his lips, but when she held out the lighter, he shook his head. Instead, Hank moved in closer to Ororo and placed the tip of his unlit cigarette against hers, inhaling until he saw the tip glowing orange. When he removed the cigarette from his mouth and blew out a cloud of smoke, she giggled.

"Neat," she commented, "Never seen anyone light it like that."

Hank just shrugged. "It's just easier and better than wasting lighter fluid."

"Scott and Jared aren't going to be mad when they come in and smell the smoke?" asked Ororo, referring to Hank's two roommates.

"No," he replied, "Jared smokes, too, so Scott's just had to learn to hold his breath and stop whining. Anyway, he's not even here half of the time. Always sneaking out at night to meet Jean in the garden."

This comment took Ororo aback. "Seriously?"

"Well, yeah! Jean hasn't told you about that? Man, and I thought girls talked more than us guys!" he said, and then he leaned in close to Ororo with a conspiratorial smile on his face. "Now, keep quiet about this, because Scott'll kick my ass if he find out that I told you, but…he says that Jean's the best lay he's ever had," Hank threw his head back and chuckled, "Not that I believe for a minute that he has anything to compare it to, but if he wants to pretend that he does, then whatever."

Ororo's mind was reeling. Looking back, she realized that she must have been under some serious stress these past couple of weeks not to have noticed that something about Jean was…different. "Ugh!" she thought. She could have kicked herself for not paying closer attention. Why was she always the very last person to find out about _everything_?

"Goddess," she whispered, taking another drag from her cigarette as she felt a feeling of immense sadness wash over her. Everywhere she went around the mansion lately, all that she saw were couples, holding hands, locking lips. It made Ororo feel empty, as though something were missing, not only from her life, but from her soul.

Hank saw the veil that had suddenly been thrown over her blue-gray eyes, and he stood up from the bed and went to her. "You all right?" he asked. She nodded and took the ash-tray that he offered her, flicking the ashes off of the end of her cigarette.

"Yes, I'm fine. I was just…thinking," she replied, and then, she turned to him, "Hank, have you ever…well…you know…?"

The cigarette almost dropped from his mouth at this question, but he caught himself just in time.

"Me?" he asked, "Umm…yeah, actually. Once, back home, with, uhh…a girl that I knew."

She nodded sadly. "I never have. I've only ever had one boyfriend, back in Africa, and he and I…well, we couldn't stay with each other. We both had…things that were more important. And none of the boys here even notice me."

"Sure they do," Hank said, sitting back down on his bed and motioning for her to join him, which she did.

"No, they don't," she argued, "I think that I'm just…too different. I'm one of the only dark-skinned people at this school, and the fact that my hair and eyes completely clash with the rest of my coloring…"

"I like your hair, and I've always thought that your eyes were gorgeous," Hank assured her.

Ororo looked at him, his blue skin and the fur covering his head and face, and laughed, making him crack a smile as well.

"I'm sorry, Hank," she apologized, leaning against him. Without hesitation, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. When she spoke again, her voice was serious. "You really think that I'm pretty?"

"Oh, yes," he replied, lowering his lips to hers. She pulled him closer as they kissed, running her hands through the smooth, deep blue of his mane. When they broke the kiss, he still could not keep himself away from her. His lips roved over her face, her neck, her chest. He grabbed the front of her blouse, fingers poised to unclasp the buttons, but he hesitated. Ororo shook her head and reached down to do it for him, sliding the blouse away from her body and then working on her bra.

When her breasts were exposed to him, Hank felt as though he were gazing upon one of the Seven Wonders of the World. He kissed her again, cupping one breast in each of his hands, and gently massaging, making her groan.

"It's been a long time since I've felt like this," Ororo told him, pulling his shirt over his head and then reaching for the zipper of his jeans.

"I've never felt like this before," he admitted as his hand invaded her pants, two fingers slipping into her panties and finding her most sensitive spot.

"Not even…uhh…with that girl…from back home?" she asked in between gasps of pleasure.

"No," Hank said, "This is so much better." He kissed Ororo to silence her moans as his fingers worked their magic on her body, driving her closer to the edge until finally her hips were bucking against his hand and she was squealing in pleasure and surprise. It wasn't her first orgasm, but his hands felt so much better on her than her own.

"Hank…oh Goddess," she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder, "I've never…I…oh my." She happened to look down at that moment, and saw his hard member standing at attention.

"Goddess," she thought, "he's so big. How am I ever going to…" He saw the worried expression on her face, and kissed her in reassurance.

"It'll be all right," he said, "It's going to hurt at first, but you'll get used to it, and I'll be as gentle as I can, OK?" She nodded and gave herself over to him.

"I trust you, Hank," said Ororo as he entered her.


	2. Back to the story

**Author's Note: Short chapter, yes, but I'm still not sure about continuing this. Depends on what kind of feedback I get on the next few chapters. Anyway, I threw in just the slightest bit of RoLo for you guys. Tell me what you think.**

xXx

Modern day…

"I found it, Ms. Munroe!" shouted Rogue jubilantly after finally laying her hands on the bell schedule, "If it had been a snake, it would've bitten us."

"Really?" the new headmistress of The Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters abandoned the pile of papers that she'd been shifting through. Rogue nodded and handed her the paper. Ororo Munroe's eyes scanned it briefly, and then the excitement left them and she sighed.

"Rogue, dear, this is the bell schedule from last year," she said gently.

"It is?" the girl asked. Ororo nodded and handed it to her, directing her attention to the top of the page.

"See, it says '04-'05 school year, and it has the Professor's signature of approval on the bottom here," she pointed out, "We need the one for '05-'06, and I need to sign it."

"Aww, I'm sorry, Ms. Munroe. I just saw the words 'bell schedule' and freaked out," the girl apologized. Ororo shook her head and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"That's all right, child. In the end, all of this is my fault for losing the schedule in the first place," she replied, strolling over to her desk and continuing her search, "Goddess, I am so disorganized! Tell me honestly, Rogue, do you think that I'm doing a terrible job with all of this? Professor Xavier would never have lost the bell schedule, or anything else for that matter."

Rogue shook her head, "Nah, Ms. Munroe, you've just been under a lot of stress lately, and anyway, it's only your first year doing this. Think about it; the Professor had been at it since you were a student. He had a lot of years of practice. That's all you need. I think you'll do a great job. Anyway, under the circumstances, you're the only one who's capable of this kind of thing. It's either you, or no one."

A forceful knock on the frame of the open door of the office made both women jump. When they turned to face their intruder, they saw Logan standing in the doorway with a cup of coffee and an apologetic look on his face.

"Sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to scare ya."

"That's fine, Logan. Is there anything that you need?" Ororo inquired.

"Well, umm…I just…did you know that the smell of stress is incredibly overpowering and disorienting?" he asked. Ororo frowned in confusion and Rogue giggled at the randomness of his comment.

"Yeah," Logan continued, "All I've smelled all week in this house has been stress over one thing or another, and it's driving me over the edge. So, for purely selfish reasons, of course, I've decided to go around from classroom to classroom and offer my services to anyone who needs them, ya know, to minimize the stress levels. I sensed a lot of stress coming from this room, and wondered if I could do anything to help."

Rogue laughed once again, but was silenced by a look of agitation from Ororo, who stepped forward and handed a stack of papers to Logan.

"If you're serious," she said, "Then we could really use someone to help us sort through all of this mess. We're looking for the bell schedule for this year. I decided to modify it a bit, but after typing it up, I set it down in a stack of other papers and haven't seen it since."

"No problem," he replied, taking the stack and beginning his quest for the missing bell schedule. While the two adults were both preoccupied, Rogue took the opportunity to watch each of them, particularly Logan, who was stealing glances in Ororo's direction as he sifted through his paper pile. Finally, the silence of the room was broken as Logan let out a loud, "Ah ha!"

"What? Did you find it?" Ororo asked, moving towards him and taking the paper from his hands, "Oh, Goddess, Logan, you found it! Thank you so much!" In an unexpected show of gratefulness, she threw her arms around his neck and gave him a squeeze.

"You know, at first I wondered if it would be a good idea to let you teach all of Scott's old training classes, but you're already proving yourself to be one of my greatest assets, and school hasn't even started yet," she mused.

"Yeah, well, uhh…thanks," Logan said, giving her a pat on the back and then pulling away, "I'm…umm…gonna run off and see if there are anymore good deeds to be done." With that, he was gone, leaving Ororo stunned and Rogue giggling and smiling knowingly.

"What are you laughing at?" the headmistress demanded of her student.

"Oh, c'mon, Ms. Munroe, you honestly don't know?" the girl asked.

"Know what?" inquired Ororo, taking a sip of her bottled water.

"He wants you," Rogue said. Her opinion, and the casualness with which she gave it, shocked the older woman, who began to choke on her water.

"What…are you…talking about?" she asked in between coughs.

"He was totally checking you out while you weren't looking," Rogue explained, "Anyway, all that crap about helping people out 'to minimize the stress levels' is bull. Have you ever known Logan to do something helpful for someone 'just because?' You're the only one that he wants to help, because you're the only one whose stress level he gives a damn about."

Ororo shook her head, "You're letting your imagination run away with you."

"You really think so, don't you?" Rogue teased.

"Rogue, get out of my office," the headmistress ordered.

"Hey," the girl cried, "I'm just the messenger; don't punish me for being perceptive!"

"I'm serious, Rogue, out!" Ororo pointed to the door.

"Fine," Rogue sighed, giggling as she exited the room and closed the door behind her. Once she was gone, she slumped onto her desk, her head in her hands. "Rogue better keep her theories to herself," she thought. The situation that she and the rest of the faculty, most of whom were newly hired and had never taught under circumstances such as these before, was precarious enough. The last thing that Ororo needed at this point was a "Wolverine has the hots for Storm" rumor floating around the school.


	3. Memories and the Cruelty of Reality

Ororo pulled her thin, black hoodie closer to her lithe frame as she stepped into the chill of late October in New York. She inhaled a breath of air that carried with it the sensuous fragrance of burning leaves. Although leaf burning was illegal in their county, the headmistress of the Xavier School would never call the police on anyone who participated in the activity, simply because she loved the thick, intoxicating aroma. In any case, the human police had pretty much stopped responding to the calls placed to them from inside the mansion.

"They're mutants; chances are they can handle anything that comes their way. Anyhow, we probably aren't equipped to deal with whatever kind of messes they might get into anyway." Ororo could just picture the fat deputies sitting at their desks eating donuts and uttering those very words, and it made her blood boil. At times, she couldn't help but think that perhaps, as warped as his actions and methods may have been, Magneto's general opinion about the human race was a fairly accurate one. When she got ideas like this, Ororo panicked.

"I'm the headmistress of a school founded by a man who wanted to teach people like himself to control their powers and use them to co-exist with and assist mankind," she reminded herself, "The same man who practically raised me and taught me almost everything that I know. I'm trying to be his legacy, to teach these children as he did. I shouldn't have opinions that clash so greatly with his."

She sighed and bit her lower lip. Her goal had been to head towards the cemetery and lay on the ground in front of Charles's grave; as she did every time that she'd had an incredibly stressful day and felt that she wanted to give it all up. She liked to think that, by meditating near his grave, she would absorb some of his strength of spirit, but now, she couldn't face him, so she turned the other way, deciding to take a stroll through the gardens instead.

Ororo thought that she should spend some time in the gardens, anyway. It would be winter soon, and all of the flowers would wither and die. The fountains would freeze, the grass would turn brown and be covered with snow, and there'd be nothing at all to see. Might as well enjoy it while it lasted.

She just hoped that she wouldn't find any students in there participating in…non-school-approved "extracurricular activities." Ororo liked to think that the school was not so much a breeding grounds for teen sex and various other illegal activities now that her generation of students were grown and had gotten up the nerve to share with the Professor all of the things that _they_ used to do while under his tutelage. He'd laughed at most of their exploits, remembering his teenage days, but still, he'd encouraged the teachers to watch more closely, and, on the whole, they had been amazed at all of the things that they had caught when actually watching for them.

Ororo had never been able to bring herself to tell Charles of what she and Hank had done together. Of course, he knew that the two had been a couple for a brief period of time, but, somehow, she blushed every time she thought of telling her father figure that she had blown _any_ boy, much less the valedictorian of their graduating class, right there behind the hedges that she was currently walking past.

The only person that Ororo had ever told of her early sexual exploits had been Jean, after the other woman had confessed to sleeping with Scott. She was sure that Jean had told her boyfriend at one point or another, but neither of them had ever told anyone else, that she knew of, and Jean only mentioned it in jest.

"Hank," she thought of him with affection, shaking her head as she passed what used to be "their bench." The bench where the two would come to smoke and make out in the middle of the night, or just be together and talk…the bench where she had let him go right before graduation, told him that it would be best if they would no longer see each other. The bench upon which he had slapped her right across the face after getting enraged at her refusal to take him back, and where he'd held her for nearly an hour after their graduation ceremony the following day, apologizing over and over again for his bout of anger and mistreatment of her.

"You loved me so dearly, Hank, and I broke your heart right in half," thought Ororo, "I deserved to be slapped for the way that I treated you." She knew that this was the truth, but also that breaking up with him had been right, if not for herself, then for him. Hank had never truly needed her; he'd only believed so.

"I'd like to have him over for Christmas," she thought, remembering so much of the past; the holidays that they used to spend together at the school. Another memory came flooding back to her all too suddenly. The first time they'd seen each other since graduation day; four years later when he'd returned to New York from college. She had been sitting with Professor Xavier and Scott in his office, the two former students having a talk with their mentor about the events of the days to come. Ororo's left hand, clasped nervously in Scott's right one, had been shaking because the Xavier Institute's school year started again in only two days, and, for the first time, she and Scott would both be in front of their respective classes instead of behind desks.

Hank had been welcomed at first, shaking hands with both Scott and the Professor, but ignoring Ororo completely. His actions had disheartened her so much that she'd moved away from the three men and taken Charles's window seat; anything to get as far away from _him_ as she could. Still, she paid close attention to their conversation. She listened raptly as Hank explained to his former teacher that, although he still felt a deep connection to the school, and, yes, while he _had_ undergone X-Men training, he thought that his skills would be put to better use if he were to become a doctor, specifically, a geneticist.

Oh, the men had been furious. Charles had buried his face in his hands, lamenting upon how direly Hank was needed as a part of the group, how he had trained all of them to be a team, and now the team was being broken up. On the other hand, Scott had been enraged, yelling violently at his former roommate and getting up from his chair with balled fists.

"Oh, my friend, you do not want to get into this with me," Hank had warned, but this only provoked Scott to move forward as the other man's mutation came through, his brown hair turning blue and his handsome features changing to those of a fearsome beast. Before Scott's fist could make contact with Hank's face, he grabbed it and twisted it, then let out a mighty roar and yelled, "I don't have to deal with this!" before exiting the office.

Ororo followed, running after him as he stalked through the halls like an animal on the prowl. She called his name over and over again, until finally he turned around, revealing to her the fact that he was changing back into human form.

"What the Hell do you want?" he asked gruffly, provoking tears to spring to her eyes.

"I…I just wanted to say that…I'm happy for you," she replied sadly, "That I think that the path you've chosen is the right one for you, the one that I always wanted to see you go down. I'm proud of you, Hank."

He had leapt forward to pull her into his arms, and she sighed deeply against his chest as he pressed her into his body.

"Thank you. It means a lot to me that at least one of you isn't infuriated at my decision," he said.

"Charles and Scott? They'll come around. We'll all learn to adapt to not having you as part of the team, and, eventually, they will learn to be as proud of you and your accomplishments as I am. Just give them time," she assured him.

"I hope so," he sighed, "This place has become my only home; I don't know how I'll hold up knowing that I can't come back here."

"You'll come back. We X-Men…it's what we do. You were an X-Man once; this place is part of your soul," she told him, and he nodded.

"You're right," Hank admitted, "So take care of it for me, Ororo. But most importantly, take care of yourself." He let her go and began to walk away, towards the staircase leading to the front door.

"You, too, Hank," she shouted back after him, "You, too."

A voice shouting her name brought Ororo back to the present day with a start. She turned to see Kitty Pryde running towards her, waving her hands.

"Ms. Munroe," she said urgently when she reached the headmistress.

"Kitty, what are you doing out without a coat?" Ororo asked, "You'll freeze!"

"Oh, I'm going back inside in just a minute. Anyway, Logan told me to get out here and find you as soon as I could. He's in your office, said he had something really important to talk to you about…and…uhh…" the girl hesitated at the last part.

"What else did he tell you, Kitty?" demanded Ororo.

"He said to tell you that he's serious and you need to come quick, 'cause 'I ain't bullshittin' her,'" said Kitty, imitating Logan's accent on the last part. The headmistress stifled a giggle, keeping her face a smooth and serene mask.

"All right, then, I suppose I'll rush to my office to see what's so urgent that he has to interrupt my afternoon relaxation hour," she said in annoyance, "Now, you get back inside, and find a jacket next time you come out."

"OK, Ms. Munroe," the girl replied, walking off.

xXx

Logan paced the floor of Ororo's office, slapping the note held in his right hand against the palm of his left. "Oh, for Christ sakes, what's taking her so long?" he asked himself. Just then, he heard the door open, and turned to see Ororo walking through it, dressed more casually than he'd ever seen her before, in a pair of bootcut jeans, a black hoodie, and black Chuck Taylors, her hair slightly rumpled from the autumn breeze. Along with her usual scent of sandalwood and vanilla, the headmistress carried with her the wild tang of the outdoors, and Logan's nostrils flared as the mingled smells assaulted his nose.

"Logan, what's so important that you had to interrupt my free time?" she asked, her tone carrying with it only the slightest hint of anger, "Goddess, when Kitty came to me, she was practically panicking! What's going on?"

"Read this," he said, thrusting the neatly folded piece of paper that he held towards her, "A group of ninth graders found it about an hour ago taped to the front door. They looked like they were about to have a heart attack when they brought it to me. Take a look at it and you'll see why."

Ororo gave him a look of confusion, but opened the note and scanned it. Her eyes grew wide and she looked up at Logan, who nodded.

"Oh, Goddess," she whispered, her eyes growing wide and her hands losing their grip on the note, which fluttered to the floor, landing face up so that it's message was in plain sight:

_Mutants are a blemish on the face of the earth; a plague. This school is a breeding grounds for corruption, and it is time to cleanse the world of your evil._


	4. I Need Help

Ororo's lower lip trembled, and, although she was staring ahead at Logan, she wasn't truly seeing him.

"What am I going to do about this?" she asked, a thousand thoughts whirling through her head all at once. She felt her legs turning to jelly beneath her. Logan saw it, too, and he rushed forward to save her from falling. He led her to her white leather sofa and sat next to her.

"When I was younger, I used to think that this school was like a fortress, that we would all be safe as long as we were behind these walls," Ororo lamented, "The truth is, we were only safe as long as nobody knew what kind of school we really are, and we were still thought to be a prep school."

Logan nodded, remembering the night that they had been exposed to the world, when the sanctity of their environment had been invaded by the military, which, subsequently, caused reports on every major news station in the US that gave away the true nature of the Xavier Institute.

"I thought that we had entered into a state of peace with the humans. A fragile peace, yes, but I never expected anything like this," Ororo said.

"I did," Logan replied, "Honestly, since the whole 'cure' bullshit went down, I was just waiting for something to go wrong."

"I'm sure that everyone was," she admitted, "Especially now that Charles is gone and I've taken his position."

She stood up and walked to her window, pressing her cheek against the cool glass as a tear streamed down from her eyes.

"Don't tell me that you're blaming yourself for this," said Logan, standing up.

"I don't know," she replied, "But I have to wonder whether or not this would have happened if Charles were still alive and running things. He was at least well-respected and established. Having someone new running the school just leaves us completely vulnerable."

She turned to him with tears tracing salty paths down her cheeks, and the urge rose within him to go to her, wipe her eyes and hold her in his arms. Alas, he could do nothing but speak.

"It would be that way no matter who had taken over, Storm. You can't blame yourself for everything that goes wrong around here."

"Oh, yes, I can, because most of it is my fault. If I were a better headmistress…" she began sadly, but Logan cut her off.

"You are a great headmistress," he said, "You've just gotten off to a rough start because of the circumstances that forced you to take over the school. You're only getting discouraged because you're a perfectionist, and you think that everything is going to Hell just because the year's gotten off to a rough start. We're in the middle of a transition, Storm; this is how change happens!"

She shook her head and banged it softly against the glass of the window. Logan felt the urges to strangle her until she saw reason and to hold her until she stopped crying all at once, and his emotions conflicted so greatly that he was rooted to where he stood.

"Do you realize how much the kids love you?" he asked, trying a different approach, "Hell, even the rest of the teachers look up to you. There's no problem you haven't fixed, no hurtle you haven't jumped. Everyone has faith in you. You can do anything."

"Anything but protect this school and everyone in it," she whispered, "Maybe I should just shut it down, send everyone home." Logan shook his head and took a step towards her, grabbing her shoulders.

"No," he said fiercely, "You're not thinking right now, Storm. If you were, you'd realize that closing the school down _is not_ the answer. Whoever left the note, that's just what they want us to do. We'd only be giving in to their demands. Anyway, we can't close the school because if we did, we'd be sending every student here out into the world as helpless as a newborn puppy. You know that most of them either ran away from or got kicked out of their homes; this school is all they have. It would be cruel and selfish of us to turn them away."

His hazel eyes burned through her stormy blue ones, still leaking tears from the corners. Ororo took a deep breath and nodded before she was able to speak again.

"I know. I know that, but, Logan…I'm scared," she said, "I'm afraid that whoever left the note on the front door is serious, and that they'll attack. I'm holding the lives of everyone in this house in my hands, and if anything happens, then it's my fault."

Without warning, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed herself against his chest, dampening his button-down shirt with her tears. Surprised as he was by her sudden show of emotion and affection, he seized upon the moment, taking the chance to pull her close and stroke her smooth, caramel skin while burying his nose in her platinum tresses. He felt his soul practically leaving his body and floating in the air as her scent and the feel of her invaded him. Logan wanted to stay this way forever, to never let this go, but, to his immense disappointment, he was brought back to Earth by the sound of her laughter.

He looked down to see that she was wiping her tear-stained cheeks with the front of his shirt while smiling and chuckling. She shook her head and looked up to see the bewilderment on his face.

"What's funny?" he asked, "A minute ago, you're bawling your eyes out, and now…"

"I'm sorry," she giggled, "I'm so sorry. It's just that I've been long overdue for a breakdown. I feel lightheaded, Logan, and I'm so confused that I don't know what to do. I need help."

"With what? Are you about to pass out? You want me to walk you to your room, or…"

She interrupted him with another bout of laughter. "No, no…I meant that I need help with…everything. I was out of my mind when I decided that I could run this school single-handedly while still keeping all of my old classes. I need someone that I can count on to help me with all of my duties as headmistress. Doing it alone has taken too much of a toll on me; I don't know how much more I can handle."

"I'll help you," he offered. Ororo stared at him as though he were a diamond that she was appraising.

"You mean it?" she asked. Without hesitation, he nodded.

"Absolutely. Anything you need done, just let me know and I'll do it. Hell, I would have offered a long time ago, but you never gave any hint that you needed or even wanted any help," said Logan.

"I know. I tried to be braver than I am," whispered Ororo. She stepped into his arms once again, giving him a squeeze around the middle.

"Thank you," she told him, not looking up to see his face. If she would have, Ororo would have known that just one touch from her was all the thanks that Logan would ever need.


	5. Nightmares and Dreams Come True

**Author's Note: All right, so, when I uploaded this last night I was really tired and ended up leaving out an entire section and making all kinds of other errors. Everything's fixed now, hopefully, and I apologize for that and hope that you enjoy the chapter anyway.**

xXx

"So this is how you spend all this time in your office?" Logan asked, closing the drawer of the filing cabinet as he shoved the last report card into its proper place, "Somehow I'd pictured something more…official."

Ororo smiled up at him from the screen of her computer.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm afraid that this is it," she confirmed.

"You know, you wouldn't have to do half of this stuff if you would get a secretary," he suggested. She shook her head and grimaced.

"Charles had a secretary once, when I first started going to school here," she told him, "One of the only times I ever saw him absolutely furious was when he found out that not only had she mixed up all of the student transcripts, but she also accidentally hung up on an several incredibly important calls because she didn't know how to use the phone properly. I don't trust secretaries. I get Kitty or Rogue in here sometimes, and they help with some of it, but mostly I prefer to do everything myself. At least then I know that it gets done."

"So, you wouldn't trust a secretary to file the first term report cards away, but you have faith in me?" he asked, semi-jokingly.

"I have a lot of faith in you, Logan," replied Ororo, "I always knew that you had the potential to be very efficient and trustworthy. You just had to settle down first."

"So, in your opinion, I'm 'settled' now?"

"In all of the years that I've known you, I've never seen you more focused on anything than you are when you're teaching," she said. This was met with a simple shrug.

"All I do in my classes is fight, Storm," he pointed out. She shook her head.

"You and I both know that fighting is all instinct. Little to no thought is needed to fight. I've seen you in your classes. Even when I'm not sitting in the control room while you're with the children in the Danger Room, I sometimes watch on the cameras. You're a good teacher, Logan; you really put your mind to training these kids. You have more to offer them as far as a battlefield education goes than even Scott did," Ororo told him.

Logan was taken aback. No one had ever compared him to Scott before. At least, not in a good way. He'd never been the victor in any contest against the man; and the fact that Storm thought that he did something better than Scott meant a lot to him.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, "Scott's form of combat was very refined, and he was heavily reliant on his powers to bail him out of everything. Real-life battle is not always so civilized; the children, especially the ones in X-Men training, need to have well-rounded fighting skills to handle all manner of opponents, and they need to know what to do if ever they cannot use their powers."

"That's what I always thought, too," agreed Logan, basking in the glow of Storm's approval. She gave him a brief smile before returning to her computer work. While busily typing up her lesson plan for the next week of her Advanced World History class, another thought crossed Ororo's mind.

"He wants you," Rogue's voice came back to haunt the older woman as she watched Logan walking over to the copy machine. In her head, Ororo re-played the events of the past hour, the tender way in which Logan had held her, how quickly his compliments, reassurances, and the offer to help her in any way possible had come. Unconsciously, she ran her thumb across her bottom lip while keeping her eyes securely fastened on him.

When he turned around and saw the expression on her face, Logan felt his heart leap, but quickly placated it. Storm was lost in space again, thinking of everything that would need to be done the following day, or something equally as dismal. She couldn't possibly be thinking of him so intently…could she?

"No," he told himself, "The answer is no. Not possible."

"Storm?" asked Logan, shaking her from her reverie, "Anything else I can do for you?"

She hesitated a moment before finding her voice. "Umm…uhh…no. Nothing in particular, but I'll tell you what. I'm starving. If you'll go down to the dining room and grab some dinner for me, you can use my computer to type up your lesson plans while I finish the filing."

Inside, Logan was smiling at the prospect of spending even an hour more in close proximity to her, but, outwardly, he shrugged casually.

"Sure. Why not? My computer's a piece of crap anyway," he said, heading for the door.

"Hmm…I'll buy you a new one," Ororo said dreamily once she was sure that he was out of earshot.

xXx

Logan's head began to whirl as he stared at the screen of Ororo's computer for the third hour in a row. While she had been filing and doing other odd errands around her office, he'd gotten in the time to type up all of his lesson plans for the following week. He'd never felt such an odd mix of efficiency and fatigue in his whole life. What little of it he could remember, of course.

"Ugh," he said, "You mind if I turn your computer off, Storm?" When he got no response, he repeated the question, but was met with silence once again. He looked away from the screen, quickly scanning the room and seeing her curled up in the fetal position on the sofa that sat right in front of her desk. Limp as a rag doll, with her head resting on the arm of the sofa, Ororo was obviously asleep.

It struck Logan as tragic that this was the most serene that he had seen her in such a long time. Only when she slept was his beloved weather witch truly at peace. He found himself wishing that there were something more he could do for her, to put her mind at ease, and to erase the frown of anxiety that always seemed to be on her face these days.

After saving his work and shutting the computer down, Logan approached the sofa slowly, hoping that he wouldn't disturb her slumber. These days, the busy headmistress needed all of the rest that she could get. Besides, he didn't want her to awaken just yet. She was beautiful, like a portrait, and he wanted to study her, every soft curve of her delicate face. His hand was pulled to her cheek as though by magnetic force, and when he touched her skin, it sent an electric jolt up his spine.

Without warning, she groaned and twisted around in her sleep, almost falling off of the sofa. Logan grabbed her by the shoulders to stop her from landing square on the floor, and hauled her back up. Her eyes opened slowly, struggling to focus, and she gave him a look of confusion once she saw his face.

"Wha…what…?" she asked groggily.

"You fell asleep, darlin'," he informed her, "And then you moved in your sleep and almost rolled off the sofa."

"Oh," she said numbly, obviously too exhausted to fully comprehend his words, "could you bring me to my room?"

"Uhh…" Logan stuttered, somewhat surprised at her question before realizing that Ororo wasn't even aware of the words that were coming from her mouth; she was in a haze and cared about nothing but a warm, soft bed. He agreed, taking both of her hands in his and pulling her from the sofa. Instantly, she collapsed into his arms, closing her eyes against his chest and sighing.

"OK, darlin'," he said uneasily, "Let's go put you to bed." She mumbled something inaudible before wrapping her arms around his neck. Logan let out a somewhat frustrated sigh when he realized that she was not going to cooperate with him. Growing impatient, he seized her and took her in his arms like a bride, carrying her out of the office and down the hall.

When he reached the stairs that led to Ororo's attic bedroom, he let out a groan and thanked his lucky stars that the woman in his arms was light as a feather. He climbed the stairs slowly, trying not to be distracted by her warm breath on the sensitive skin of his neck as she nuzzled into him like a small child.

"All right, here we are," he said, opening the door to the bedroom and stepping in to deliver Ororo to her bed.

xXx

In her dreams, Ororo saw a flash the purest shade of hell and felt her world being rocked violently. Screams echoed around her as the walls and ceiling collapsed, cutting her off from Mother and leaving her alone, pinned under a huge piece of plaster. She called out for her parents, but her only answer was their screams and the sickening sound of a skull cracking as it was hit with something hard.

"Mama…Papa…" she cried out as she was shaken rudely into consciousness by the bouncing of the mattress below her. Still shivering and breathing heavily, but ultimately wide awake; Ororo looked over towards the source of the unwelcome movement, and almost let out another shriek at what she saw. Logan, fully clothed and uncovered by the bed sheets, was thrashing about in his sleep, moaning in pain and muttering the words "no" and "stop" over and over again.

Concern for him won out over confusion as to why he was in her bed and resentment over him having awakened her, and she attempted to move towards him, but was put off as he turned her way and flailed his arms at some dream-demon. She began to call his name, so softly that it started out as a whisper, but soon built to an order of the sternest proportions as she reached out to shake him awake.

"Come on, Logan, snap out of it," she demanded of him, "Wake up." Urgently, she shook, prompting his eyes to open with one last whine of pain as he slapped her hand away. On impulse, he sat straight up in bed, reaching for the first thing that he could grab. That one thing just happened to be the front of the t-shirt that he had dressed her in last night, hanging loosely from her body. He jerked her towards him so violently that her breath caught in her chest, and his arms around her were insistent; she couldn't shake him.

His chest heaved, and her ear pressed against the place where his heart was, so that she could hear and feel every frightened thud. Goddess, it sounded as though it were trying to rip itself from his chest.

"Logan," she said, in a voice that indicated that she was about to cry, "Let me go, Logan."

"Jesus, Storm," he grunted in recognition and freed her. She scurried away to the other side of the bed, still looking into his eyes but staying far away from the reach of his arms.

"I'm sorry," Logan said, casting his eyes down.

"It's all right," Ororo said as reassuringly as she could, "You had a nightmare; you were rolling all over the bed. I thought you were having a seizure at first."

"Close enough," he replied, rubbing his sore neck, "It feels like I had one."

"I know the feeling," she said, scooting closer to him and holding out her hand. He took it gratefully and turned it over, running his index finger over the lines of her hands. Ororo's heart sank when she realized that he was still shaking. Her other hand came down upon his and he looked into her eyes. Pain shone through them like a beacon, matching his own.

"What was your dream about?" he asked, "Everyone knows about mine; but what do you see in your nightmares?" She shivered inadvertently.

"My…my parents…they died when I was…very young," she tripped over her words and a tear traced a salty path down her face, "It was an…explosion or a bombing. I don't remember; I choose not to. It was terrible; I heard everything, but all I could see was smoke, and I was trapped. I…don't dream of it often, but when I do…I can't close my eyes without seeing red for days, and I have to surround myself with noise because I hear their screams echoing through the silence."

"God, Storm, I'm sorry I asked," he whispered, "That's horrible…worse than mine by a long shot."

"No. I can't even imagine the horrors you've seen…" she began.

"But they're only real to me when I'm asleep. You have to deal with yours always," he said. Gently, he pulled her body towards his, wrapping her in the warmth of his arms. She took the protection and comfort that he offered gratefully, nuzzling into his neck, tears tickling his skin as he buried his face in her hair, dealing with his own fear and pain while absorbing hers.

"Thank you, thank you," she repeated, unable to think of anything else to tell him.

"No, I should thank you," he said. Ororo tilted her head to look up at him, confused.

"For what?" she asked.

"For not being angry about waking up and finding me freaking out in your bed," he leant forward and whispered, the tip of his nose touching hers. At once, her heart was thudding just as crazily as his had minutes before, and she moved her lips to speak but no sounds came.

"I…umm…it…" she stammered, unable to find words with every breath that he took falling warmly onto her lips. Without warning, she bridged the gap between them, seizing his lips with her own. He kissed back fiercely, as though he'd been hungering for this moment, and, she knew, he had. All that she was unsure of was for how long.

"I used to dream about this, long ago, when I first met you, when I knew that I couldn't have you," she admitted after they released each other, "I wanted to tease you, to show you what it's like to want something that you can't have. I couldn't do it."

She kissed him again, just a small peck on the lips.

"When?" she asked, "When did this start? When did you know that…?"

"The day the Professor died," he replied, placing one strong hand under her head and then pushing her down onto the pillows, his lips attacking hers, "You held me so tight, I smelled all of your fear, your anger…your pain, and I felt connected to you for the first time. Nothing before that day mattered to me anymore; it was all just…you. I didn't think you'd want me after…Jean, the way I ignored you."

"Oh, I want you," she assured him, letting his hands wander over her body and moaning as he undressed her.


	6. Short Notice

**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay and the short chapter, guys, but you won't believe how busy I've been lately, with my job and school about to start. I've been so tired, and there's so much to do and not enough time to do it in. Anyway, enjoy this chapter (and I'll try to get the next one finished soon) because, depending on what Tropical Storm Chris does (I live in south Louisiana), I may not be able to update for quite a while. I'm hoping that it won't get that severe, since the news says that the storm is weakening, but there's always a possibility.**

xXx

"We all get death threat letters, Ororo," Henry McCoy attempted to calm the headmistress of the Xavier Institute over the phone, "Remember when we were cleaning out the Professor's office that one day and started snooping and we found a whole drawer full of them?"

"Yes, but Hank…" Ororo began, switching the phone from one ear to the other.

"Hell, now that I'm an ambassador, I might as well walk around with a sign on my back that says 'Please kill me,'" he interrupted her, "That's how many death threats I get _weekly_. Not to mention all of the assassination attempts in just the past few months. I'm well on my way to having a drawer that looks just like Charles' did."

"I know, Hank, but listen to me," said Ororo intensely, "All of the death threats that Charles used to get, and all of the ones that you get, those are all _individual_ threats, on no one's life but your own. The two that we've received have been threats on the _entire school_, everyone in it. It could be nothing; it could just be someone trying to intimidate us. In fact, until this afternoon, I didn't think much more of it than that; I brushed it aside. But, Hank, we found another note on the front door. The students are in a panic; I'm starting to get scared."

"What have you been doing about it so far?" Hank asked in a sympathetic tone.

"Well, I told the students the same thing I told you; that it was just an attempt to frighten us, but they won't believe it anymore, and I don't, either. Even if it is nothing, we still need help. There's only so much we can do here by ourselves. I just called to ask if there might be anything you can do, any kind of aid that you could get for us," she told him, almost pleadingly.

"What are you thinking of, some kind of a military surveillance or security?" he suggested.

"It would have to be," replied Ororo, "The local police don't take us seriously anymore; I haven't even tried to call them. There's no point."

"And you sincerely believe that humans are behind this, and not mutants? Because, Ororo, I can send in the military, but we all know how useful they are in a mutant attack," he said.

"Why would any mutant write things about their own kind like, 'Mutants are a pestilence'?" she asked.

"Reverse psychology," Hank explained, "Even from the very beginning there were fellow mutants, former colleagues of the Professor's, who were never too happy about the kinds of things that he was teaching and the methods that he was using at the Institute. If a group of mutants were planning an attack on the school, what better way to do it than to make everyone think that it was nothing more than a cult of radical humans with anti-mutant sympathies? It would certainly keep your guard down by making you think that the threat was nothing that you, as mutants, couldn't handle."

"True enough," agreed Ororo, "To be honest with you, Hank, I don't know what I believe anymore. Things have just been so hectic around here lately. In addition to all of the death threats and just the average work that goes with keeping a school up and running…Thanksgiving is right around the corner, and you know we have the banquet to plan every year."

She heard him groan over the telephone line.

"I could just kick myself for forgetting," he told her, "I've been swamped with work lately as well. If it weren't for the fact that it's starting to get colder, I wouldn't even know what month we were in."

"So I'm guessing that you won't be able to join us this year?" she asked.

"No, not on such short notice. I'm sorry, Ororo," he answered regretfully.

"No matter," she sighed, "But you did keep your Christmas open?"

"Well, of course," he said, "I could never forget that." Visions of the Christmas ball that the Xavier Institute held every year filled his head, the land around the mansion all covered in snow. It had always seemed so much like a fairytale to him; the only magic that had ever touched his life. Hank wouldn't miss Christmas at Xavier's for anything.

"Good," she said, "Because we all miss you here. I do especially, and I thank you for everything."

In his opulent D.C. office, Dr. Henry McCoy sighed lightly and closed his eyes, trying to stifle thoughts of the feelings that he still harbored for the snowy-haired woman who had given him up years ago.

"You're welcome, Ororo. And, as always, take care of yourself," he said, hanging the phone up before she could say anything more.


	7. I did it for you

**Author's Note: Ooooh, sweet Gawd, it's the dreaded Hank/Ororo romance chapter! waves arms threateningly at all of the committed RoLo fans But it's a good chapter,I think, and it's important to the plot, so I hope you all read, enjoy, and review anyway. Please. puppy dog eyes**

xXx

The joyful times in our lives are the ones that fly by the fastest, and, for Ororo, the last two months with Logan represented the happiest she had ever been in her entire life. All too soon, the leaves had withered and fallen from the trees, the air had turned chilly, and the snow had begun to accumulate on the grounds of the Xavier mansion. Normally winter was the favored season of the weather witch, and, while she looked forward to having someone to hold during those cold December nights and to kiss when the ball dropped on New Years, a disconcerting sensation had begun to rise in Ororo's belly.

She felt as though she were standing on a precipice, and change was about to descend upon her like a great, fearsome bird. Although the mansion's great hall was warm and cheerful, she felt a shiver climbing up her back, and her eyes were hollow as she watched the students who were supposed to be the most mature in the school throwing Christmas ornaments at each other and wrapping themselves in garland.

The buzzing of the front doorbell echoed throughout the first floor of the mansion, and Ororo, shaken from her daze by its shrill cry, made her way through the great hall to the foyer. After standing on the tips of her toes to see through the peephole, she let out a surprised gasp when she saw who was on the other side of the door. She wasted absolutely no time in flinging the door open and launching herself into the arms of a somewhat-surprised Henry McCoy.

"We weren't expecting you for another week!" she squealed.

"Nor was I expecting to be here so soon," he replied, "But I finished all of the work that I had left over, tied up a few loose ends, and ended up having a whole week more of vacation, so I decided to head home."

Ororo stepped away from him, holding him at arm's length and studying him. While the permanence of his mutation was still a stunner after all of the years that she'd known him in his human form, what made her frown the most were the deep creases around his eyes and the pouches under them, both obviously obtained through too much work and stress, and several sleepless nights.

"What's the matter, my dear?" Henry asked, prompting his oldest friend to shake her head.

"I'm glad that you were able to come early, Hank," she told him, "You look like you need a vacation." Her voice, underlined by worry and sadness, caused the smile of genuine rapture at being home to slip from Henry's face, and, for just a moment, the two stared at each other gloomily before Ororo clapped her hands together and her expression of jubilation returned.

"Well, do you need any help carrying your stuff in?" she asked pleasantly.

"Oh, no; I've got my limo parked out in the driveway. Between my driver and me, we should be able to handle all of it," answered Hank.

"All right then," said Ororo, "We kept the guest room that you stayed in last time just the way that you left it, if you'd like to put everything in there."

"Thank you," Hank said, taking one of her hands in his and bringing it up to lay a gentle kiss upon it, "Now you go inside before you freeze. I'll be down for dinner after I finish unpacking."

With a light nod and another false smile, she complied, leaving him standing out in the snow, bewildered.

"You've changed, Ororo," he found himself thinking. Never before had he seen her emotions waver to such a degree. The weather witch that he remembered had always been placid, her emotions not easily stirred, but when she had become agitated in any way, in the past, she could always let herself go, flow with her feelings instead of becoming defensive and covering them up. A seed of doubt was planted in his mind; he knew that Ororo was doing a good job of keeping the school up and running, but he had to wonder what kind of a toll it was taking on her.

xXx

Hank strolled casually amongst the huge crowds of mutants cluttering the ballroom of the Xavier mansion, waving to or occasionally stopping to chat with people that he knew, old friends or classmates from his school days, old friends of the Professor's. The annual Christmas ball that had been held at the mansion every year since the first class had graduated from the school was the only mutant gathering of its kind. Casual, despite the formal attire; one of the only chances that mutants got to gather together in large groups. All past graduates, staff, and the current junior and senior classes of the Xavier Institute were welcome to attend, and most accepted the invitations graciously.

"One of the students must have spiked the punch," thought Hank as he took another sip, chuckling as he remembered his school days, the very first winter ball, he, Ororo, and Scott snickering as they watched Jean levitating a pilfered bottle of vodka towards the punch bowl.

"We've come a long way since then, you and I," he said to himself as he spied Ororo across the room, looking just as brilliant as a snow flake in a knee-length, spaghetti-strapped white dress and pearls. Hank's heart sank as he caught sight of whose arm she was on. Even in a black tuxedo, with his hair slicked back and a clean shave, the Wolverine looked just as wild as ever.

Hank felt his blood begin to boil, and, for once, he was glad for the unnatural hue of his skin. Had he been in regular form, the angry heat that he felt rising within him would have been apparent in the form of red splotches on his cheeks. Just as he was about to make an attempt to blend into the crowd and go unnoticed by her, he heard Ororo call out to him and wave him over.

He groaned as he approached the couple, and yet, Hank felt pulled forward by Ororo's gesture, as though she were a magnet. But then, hadn't that always been her effect on him? Hank believed that he very well might jump right into a raging inferno if only the command came from her sensuous lips.

"Hello, Ororo, Logan," he greeted each of them in turn, giving her a light kiss on the cheek and then offering his hand to the other man, who ignored it and gave him a waggish smile instead.

"Hey-a, Furball," was the nonchalant response. Although Hank kept his face neutral, Ororo knew the man inside and out, and she could tell that Logan's casual dismissal of him had struck a nerve. After giving her boyfriend as hard of a pinch as she could deliver, she attempted to hit upon a neutral subject.

"So, Hank, how are you enjoying the ball?" she inquired.

"It's nice, Ororo, very nice, and quite obvious that you put a lot of thought and care into planning it. I'm greatly impressed, just as I'm sure everyone else must be," he replied.

Logan rolled his eyes.

"Smooth," he thought, "If anything, the guy's definitely smooth." Logan gave the other man a wilting stare, and Hank met it with cold determination apparent in his ice-blue eyes before finally looking away and turning around to leave, muttering something about feeling lightheaded, needing to step outside for some air.

"What's wrong with you?" Ororo whispered darkly, giving Logan a scowl before following Hank's retreating back through the crowd. She was soon caught up by one of her former classmates, however, and she sighed while listening to the other woman's chatter and watched her friend exiting into the gardens. Ororo listened politely for a few more seconds before excusing herself and following Hank's path.

When she stepped into the garden, there was no sign of him, and yet, she didn't have to be psychic like the Professor or have Logan's keen sense of smell to know where he had gone. The walk to their old bench was not such a long one, and, just as she had expected, she found Hank slumped over with his arms poised on his knees and his chin resting in his hands.

"Thought I'd find you here," she stepped up to him and he looked up, taking in the sight of her. God, she was gorgeous standing there before him in her white dress, the pearls around her slim neck radiating luminescence onto her face and the snowflakes drifting around her. His eyes roved over every inch of her, and she knew that he was staring at the swell of her breasts beneath the thin silk of the dress and her nipples, roused by the cold air, peaking against the fabric.

"Go back inside, Ororo," he ordered.

"No," she replied, "I'm not going back unless you come with me, which I know that you won't, because you don't want to be around Logan."

Hank turned his head away from her and sighed. Ororo realized that she had said the wrong thing and tugged on the sleeve of his soft, mohair jacket to get him to turn back to her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm sorry for the way he's been treating you. He's just…he's…"

"He's defensive and protective of you. Hell, he's the same way I was when we were dating. You're a prize, Ororo; any man lucky enough to have you would give anything to keep you," Hank finished for her, and then, as an afterthought, he added, "Tell him he's got nothing to worry about. You want me as much now as you did back then."

Tears sprang to Ororo's eyes as he got up from the bench and began to walk away, towards the mansion.

"Hank," she called to him, her voice breaking. He stopped in his track, but did not turn around. "Come back, Hank. Talk to me."

"About what?" Hank asked angrily, "There's nothing to discuss."

"I always wanted you, Hank. I always loved you, even when you thought that I had abandoned you," she admitted softly. He turned on his heel and strode back to her, grabbing her lightly by the shoulders. She looked down and watched the tears fall from her eyes into her lap.

"Then why did you let me go, Ororo? Why in the hell did you sit here, right here, and tell me that it would be best if we didn't see each other anymore?" he imitated her voice on the last part, and she cocked her head up to face him, her eyes flashing with anger. With a strength that he'd forgotten that she possessed, Ororo slapped him square across the face, sending him hurtling into a hedge.

"Don't mock me, you…you son-of-a-bitch!" she yelled in uncharacteristic fury, before sinking back onto the bench, sobbing into her hands.

"I'm sorry, Ororo," he said as he came to her and placed a hand on her shoulder, "Oh, God, I'm so sorry."

He sat down next to her, taking her into his arms, and she melted into him, shivering against his chest.

"I'm taking you back inside," he said, making an attempt to scoop her into his arms, but she resisted.

"No! No, Hank, not yet. I must look like hell, and anyway, I'm not cold." With a sigh, he shrugged out of his jacket and draped it around her shoulders while rubbing her arms briskly with his hands to generate some warmth for her.

"Why?" he asked abruptly, "Why did you leave me all those years ago?"

"I did it for you," replied Ororo, her answer hitting him as hard as her slap had minutes ago.

"For me?" he asked in disbelief, "For me? I was a lovesick eighteen-year-old who was hypnotized by you, who would have followed you anywhere, done anything to keep you in my arms, and I know that you knew it, so you thought that the best thing to do was to abandon me, send me out into the world with nothing? Because, Ororo, you meant everything to me."

"I know," she said tearfully, "And I knew it then, but you see, Hank, everything you've just said…_that_ was the reason I had to let you go."

She gazed up at him with her big, woeful gray-blue eyes, trying to make him understand.

"Before we started going together, you had all of these dreams. You loved biology; you were going to go to medical school and become this big, brilliant, world-renowned geneticist and help all kinds of people and find a cure for every disease in the book, and you had all the potential to do just that. I was in awe of you, Hank, I gave myself up to you without question because I admired you, and I wanted to know everything about you, to know all of your feelings. I wanted you to have feelings for me.

Then it happened, and everything changed. All of a sudden, you didn't want to go to med school anymore. You were just going to stay here, get your degree from here, and then maybe stay on and teach a few classes, and no one could convince you to try anything else. I knew that it was because of me; you were afraid of leaving me behind, and I felt guilty for it. I couldn't let you waste your life on me."

"It wouldn't have been a waste, Ororo," he insisted, "No matter how my life had turned out, I would have been happy as long as you were in it."

"No, you wouldn't have," she reassured him, "Oh, you would have been in ecstasy for the first few years. We would have finished college together, begun teaching together, probably gotten married and had a few children, but, in the end, it would all have been a lie. You always would have wondered what you could have accomplished if you would have followed your dreams. You would have ended up hating me stunting you, and hating our children for holding you back.

Believe me, Hank, I thought of all of this, and it became my nightmare. I couldn't let that happen to us. I knew, back then, that it would kill you to have to leave me, but I would rather have had you hate me for setting you free than hate me for not letting you reach your full potential.

Look at you now, Hank. You're all that you ever dreamed of being, and more. Who would have thought that you would have made a good politician, good enough to be appointed Ambassador to the UN? I like to think that, in my own way, I'm responsible for all of your greatness."

"You are," he whispered, taking her face in both of his hands, "In the early days, I did everything that I did just to spite you. I guess I thought that you'd broken it off because you didn't find me to be good enough for you. I wanted to show you that I was better than you thought. And then, that day that I came home, and everyone got so angry at me for wanting to leave instead of becoming an X-Man, I realized that you were _the only one_ who believed in me. After that, everything that I did was to just impress you."

"You never had to," she chuckled, "You always impressed me. You still do." Ororo reached up to take one of his large, blue hands in her tiny, caramel-colored one, and give it a squeeze.

"It hurt me to give you up just as much as it hurt you," she continued, "I used to cry in my bed every night, hoping that you would come back and sweep me off of my feet. That was all that you had to do, Hank. Why didn't you? Why did you never come back for me?"

"I never knew whether or not you would have taken me back, and I was afraid to try because I couldn't have stood to be rejected again" he admitted, provoking more tears to spring forth from her eyes. She held him close to her, sobbing into his white button-down shirt and shivering against him, and he wrapped his arms around her to protect her from the cold and her own sorrow.

"You still feel like Heaven," he whispered to her, his breath warm against her ear and his hands urgent as they crept from her waist on down.

"And you still know how to make me melt inside," she breathed, her lips settling on his as he stroked her inner thigh. She broke the kiss and, to Hank's delight, he found that she was wearing no panties beneath her dress.

"I think…that I'm ready to…go back inside now…" she gasped as he stroked her most secret of places. He seized her lips once more, his tongue attacking hers.

The rustling of leaves made them both start and turn to look towards the source of the sound. There, standing amongst the hedges, was Logan, his eyes glowing with feral rage.

"What the fuck is this?" he shouted, making Ororo jump and cling even more tightly to Hank, "Oh, God, I knew it. I fucking _knew_ that some shit like this was going down."

"Logan," Ororo began, but he cut her off with an angry growl.

"Save it, bitch. Nothing you could possibly say to me right now is going to do any good."

With that, he turned on his heel and exited the garden, baring his claws and using them to tear down shrubs and bushes as he walked by. Ororo tore herself away from Hank's grasp and ran after him, yelling his name repeatedly as she followed him all the way to the garage, where, ignoring her, Logan climbed onto Scott's old motorcycle, started it, and peeled out of the garage. Ororo followed him and watched as he sped along the driveway and through the gates, out into the night, leaving her ashamed and alone.


	8. Leaving

"I'm sorry, Ororo," Hank apologized for what seemed like the hundredth time, lightly rubbing the back of the woman who lay face-down before him, weeping into her pillow. Finally, after an hour of uninterrupted sobs and sniffles, she was able to form words.

"Why are you sorry? It's not your fault. I chose to do what I did, Hank, it's not as though you were controlling me. All of this, it's my fault."

"I should never have touched you, never should have said the things that I did," he argued, shaking his head. Ororo turned to him with a puzzled expression on her reddened, tear-stained face.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"You love him, Ororo. Anyone can see that. I could see it, and it killed me inside. Still, I had no right to barge in and try to steal you away. I didn't mean to do it…I never intended to come here and pour my heart out to you. It was a situational thing; I was angry and desperate, and you were finally able to talk about what happened between us, how sorry you were to have let me go. All I've ever wanted was you, Ororo. I saw the opportunity to have what I wanted, and I jumped on it like a wild animal. I forced you into a situation that caused you to betray the man you love…the one that you love more than you love me," he explained.

"Don't say that!" she cried, "I love you, Hank. That's all I've ever known for so many years, that I really and truly did love you. I…I gave up on you, gave up the dream that, one day, you would come back for me, when I began to see Logan, and, along the way, I fell in love with him, as well. But it never made me want you any less. You both have my heart, and it's tearing me up."

"But who do you want, Ororo?" Hank asked, moving closer to her on the bed, "If Logan came barging through that door right now and forced you to choose, which one of us would it be?"

Her lower lip began to tremble. "I don't know. I have no idea who I would choose. I love you both, but for different reasons. For me, right now, the choice would be impossible to make."

An awkward silence, interrupted only by the bedsprings creaking as Hank stood up and walked to the window, passed between them for what seemed like an eternity, before Ororo got up the nerve to speak again.

"The thing is, Hank, Logan may never come through that door."

"Is that what you really think?" he inquired, voice flat and filled with melancholy. With a shrug, she stood up as well and joined him as he gazed out at the reflection of the moon on the snow.

"There's no way to tell," she said, "I've never seen him angrier than he was tonight. Even under the most ordinary of circumstances, when Logan leaves, it's always for a few months, at least. Who's to say that he won't come back? But then, who's to say that he _will_?"

She slipped an arm around him, nuzzling into his chest and breathing in his scent. Before Hank even had time to think, her free hand was moving up to the first button of his white, collared shirt, and unclasping it before stroking the skin beneath.

"What are you doing, Ororo?" he asked, hoping that she wouldn't continue this, but making no motion to stop or even slow her progress on his shirt.

"What I should have done years ago," she pulled his shirt away from his chest and buried her face there once again; "I've missed you so desperately."

"Are you sure?" for his part, Hank was terrified that if he so much as touched her or even made the slightest acknowledgement to himself that his moment was real, she would disappear, "Don't tease me, Ororo, I couldn't stand it if you lead me on just to quit at the last minute."

"I'm not teasing. Please, Hank, I want this right now, and I've needed it for years."

With that, he let out the breath that he'd been holding and bent down to place a kiss upon her lips, to finish what they had started in the garden.

xXx

One month and a half later…

Ororo's eyes followed Hank as he strode about the room, carrying the last of his suits to the bed and folding it into his suitcase. She sighed and wondered once again whether or not she should tell him. The words rose in her throat, but died on the tip of her tongue. He saw her bite her lower lip, and came to stand before her, taking one of her hands in both of his.

"You know that I have to go back to Washington," he said softly.

"I know," she whispered, "I just…I…Hank, I'm…I'm going to miss you." A blush rose in her cheeks, and she felt as though she could slap herself for being such a sissy. But she couldn't say anything about it, not now. He would only want to stay, and he couldn't. He was leaving for an international summit in France in only two weeks, and before he could go there, he had to return to Washington. Already, he'd spent more time than he'd counted on in New York, working from the mansion, but he couldn't do that any longer.

Hank would be back, she knew. As long as she was here, he would continue to return. She would tell him soon, perhaps after he got back from France. He'd be furious at her for keeping it from him for so long, but Ororo refused to do anything that would cause him to jeopardize his career, and he would understand.

"I guess I'm all packed," Hank sighed, looking over at his suitcases.

"I'll…ring someone up to help you carry everything," said Ororo, reaching for the phone.

An uncomfortable silence passed between the two of them, interrupted only by the knock on the door from Hank's driver, ready to take his things and then take him back to Washington.

"Come down to the car with me," he requested, pulling her up from the chair where she sat, "I can't say goodbye now…not until I know that I have no other choice."

She leaned into the arm that he wrapped around her waist in silent agreement, lost in her own thoughts as the two walked through the halls, down the stairs, and out to the car. When they reached it, she couldn't bring herself to let him go. Instead, the two leaned against the door of the limousine holding each other while Hank's driver tapped his fingers against the steering wheel.

Suddenly, Ororo felt Hank stiffen against her, and all of the hair on his body began to rise, like a startled cat. Instinctively, he growled, and pulled her closer to him.

"What is it, Hank?" she whispered in fear.

"Ororo, I'm taking you back inside," he said softly, looking around with shifty eyes, "Something's not right; I can sense it."

Before she could reply, both heard a shot ring out through the air.

"Get down!" he yelled, pushing her to the ground and shielding her with his body as more shots were fired. Students and teachers, having heard the firing of the gun, poured from the mansion. Beneath Hank, Ororo was panicking, tears running down her face and sobs escaping her throat. His entire body shook as he felt something pierce the flesh of his back, and he let out a pained, animalistic whine as more bullets embedded themselves in his back.

"Hank! Hank!" she yelled as his screams of agony echoed around her. Visions came to her, all of the things from her past began to return in one waking nightmare, and Ororo was no longer outside of the Xavier mansion. The heat of northern Africa was harsh on her skin as the very walls around her collapsed and the dying shrieks of her parents invaded her ears. Someone was pulling on her, carrying her away and whispering words of comfort into her ear; she felt something thick and warm running down her chest, and all that she would do was scream Hank's name in terror.


	9. Accepting

In the darkness of the abandoned recreation room, Ororo Munroe sobbed into the blanket that she had cocooned herself in as she watched the news report on the funeral from which she had returned hours ago. She cared not to remember it, but the memories came nonetheless. The priest's monotonous, flat voice as he spoke of a God that was completely foreign to Ororo, a God whom she could not possibly believe cared at all for those here on earth. Hank, lying so still in his coffin, surrounded by flowers and relics of his life that various people had placed alongside his body for him to be buried with.

She had borrowed a pen and a sheet of paper from the miniature notebook that she knew that Kitty Pryde carried with her at all times and hastily scribbled a note that was soon rendered nearly illegible by the tears that fell upon the paper and smeared the ink. When she was finished, she held it away from her face to read.

_Not a day will ever go by when I don't think of you and remember all that we shared. My heart will never cease to weep for you, and my love will never wane._

Short and simple, but all that she had been able to compose with her hand shaking and her heart racing. She felt as though all eyes were on her as she strolled up to the coffin and tucked the folded piece of paper under one of the sleeves of Hank's jacket, then kissed her fingertips and placed them on his lips. The thought of how life-like he looked struck her; for an instant, she thought that she could still see vitality in his cerulean cheeks, but she quickly banished such notions from her head. Hank was gone; all that remained of him was what he had left with Ororo.

Now, curled up on the sofa that had been worn by years of children jumping, playing, and reclining all over it, thoughts of what could have been haunted her. She saw Hank holding their newborn son or daughter in his strong arms, love shining in his eyes, and it made her heart sink. Tears blurred her view of the television screen as the report on Hank's funeral gave way to a story about another bombing in Baghdad.

So lost in herself was Ororo that she failed to notice the second presence in the room until the intruder cleared his throat. With a start, she turned and rose to meet him, her eyes growing wide as she took in his tall, unshaven and unkempt form. Brushing the tears from her eyes, she attempted speech.

"Logan," she managed to croak out, "You…came back."

"Came home," he amended and then added, "I…umm…I heard about…Hank."

"How?" she asked.

"I was in some dive up in Oregon when I saw it on the news. Didn't give very many details. I had to come back, see if everyone was all right," he informed her. She sighed and looked at him with hard eyes, the kind of expression he knew so well. "I'm trying to look brave and strong so that you won't see how torn I really am on the inside," that's what those eyes said to him every time she flashed them.

"And what, exactly, is your definition of 'all right'?" she asked, her tone putting him on the defensive.

"You know, you're the main reason I came back," he spat bitterly, "I had no idea whether or not you were with him when he was shot. I had to make sure that you were still alive."

"Well, I am, and yes, Logan, I was with him when he died. He died protecting me, shielding me from the three bullets that ended up embedded inside of him, including the one that went straight through his body into his heart, the one that killed him. I saw everything; I felt everything," she said, her voice breaking and the sobs coming once again.

"Aww, Jesus, Ororo, I'm sorry," he stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders, but she quickly wriggled out of his grip.

"Jesus," she rolled the name over on her tongue, "They talked a lot about him during the funeral. Something about how he died for the sins of mankind, how he and their God watch over all of God's children. I don't believe a word of it."

He was silent as he watched her turn away and go back to the couch, burying herself beneath the blankets.

"For what it's worth, I never did, either," he whispered. When she looked up at him, her eyes were softened, and the look on her face was almost pleading. Logan crossed over to the sofa and lowered himself onto the cushion. She curled her legs up to her chest, moving them so that he would have more room to sit.

"Would you have come back if you hadn't heard about Hank?" she asked, her eyes riveted on the soft pattern of the blanket over her.

"Yes," he answered without the slightest bit of hesitation, "Do you even have to ask? You're all that I have, Ororo, all that I know. I can't be away from you for too long."

"I betrayed you, Logan," she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. He folded his hands together in his lap and looked down, not saying a word.

"Yeah, you did," he finally managed to affirm, "but I forgive you. What else can I do? I love you; you're all that I want."

"No, Logan," Ororo sobbed, "You don't know how badly I betrayed you, you don't…you won't want me after I tell you…"

"Tell me what?" he asked, attempting to take her hand in his. She shook her head and pulled away from his grip. Biting her lower lip, she fished around in her mind for the right words, trying to gather up the courage to tell Logan what she hadn't been able to say to Hank.

"I…I'm…" she stammered, looking away from him and talking instead to the television, "I'm pregnant, Logan. The doctor says that I'm about five weeks along. With a time span like that, the baby can only be Hank's."

Ororo turned back to assess the damage that she had just done to him. He was staring at her, his mouth open in an O of surprise. She had been steeling herself for his anger, expecting that at any moment he would be yelling and running around the room breaking everything that could possibly be smashed or shattered, but instead, she saw tears rising to the surface of his hazel eyes. Closing her eyes against her own pain, she decided to bombard him with the rest of the news, while she was on a roll.

"I'm keeping it, Logan. I want this child, not because its mine, but because it's Hank's, and he was a great man who deserved to have a legacy. Now I'm the only one who can provide that."

"You…you slept with him?" he asked, obviously trying to hold back his emotions. She hid her face in her hands, waves of shame sweeping over her. Ororo felt her disgust with herself in the form of the nausea that rose up in her stomach, making its way to her throat and causing her to choke. Logan jumped whenever she threw the blankets from her and stood up.

"Oh, Goddess, I'm…going to…" she covered her mouth with one hand and ran into the small restroom that connected to the rec. room. He followed her, half out of curiosity and half out of the desire to make sure that she made it safely, not tripping over anything in the dark. Her hands shook with her sobs of guilt and the pain in her abdomen, and she struggled with the doorknob, finally managing to open it and not even having time to turn on the restroom's dim light before spilling the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

Logan flipped the switch for her and stood in the doorway, watching her vomit. He couldn't help but feel pity for her, doubled over in pain, barely able to catch her breath from one wave of illness before another overtook her. Then he remembered that Ororo wasn't sick, that this was only a temporary thing for her, the result of her union with another man, and his heart hardened just the slightest bit. Still, he made his way into the small room, flushing the toilet for her after she slumped against the wall, her knees drawn up to her chest and her eyes filled with tears.

"Sometimes I'm not too sure that this is really what I want," she choked out, beckoning Logan to sit down next to her on the floor. Reluctantly, he obliged, leaning against the wall opposite her with not even enough room to stretch his legs without hitting her. In breathless anticipation, he waited for her next words.

"At times, I catch myself thinking, 'I don't have to go through this; it's not too late to…'" she caught herself there, and shivered before continuing, "And then I feel like such a horrid person for even thinking of it, especially when I remember Hank. I owe this to him, Logan. No matter how much it hurts me, or you, or anyone else, I have to do it."

"He shouldn't be your only reason for carrying this baby, Ororo," he startled her with his words, and she gave him a look that demanded an explanation, "You shouldn't put yourself through this unless _you_ want it. You're right about Hank; even I have to admit that he did some great things in his life, but it was never your obligation to carry on his line, and it isn't now. He's gone, and I know that it hurts you, but have you really thought this over? Do you really want this baby, Ororo, for yourself and not for him?"

Once more, she looked away from him, and, for the first time in quite a while, she was forced to put herself before everyone else, to look inside her own soul. He watched her all the while, her quivering lips and the heaving of her chest, wondering what was going on inside of her head, and how much she'd be willing to share with him. Finally, she arrived at her answer.

"Yes," she said, her voice low with resignation, telling him that her words were the truth, "I do want it, Logan. But…I…I don't know if I can. I don't know if I'll be able to do this alone." Ororo turned her face to him, waiting to see that old familiar agony in the eyes that she'd come to know and love so well, but, instead, a smile lingered on his face, and he reached for her hand again. This time, she let him take it; let him hold it in his.

"Then you won't be alone. I'll be here with you," he nodded as he said this, reaching a hand out to her. Instead of taking it, she scooted across the floor to fall into his arms. When he took her in his embrace, he realized that she was shivering, whether from the illness or from nerves, he did not know.

"You should get upstairs to bed," he told her, "It's late and you need your rest."

"I don't want to let go of you," she admitted in a whisper, "I don't want to end this."

He grunted as he rose from the floor, pulling her body up with his and lifting her from the ground. Such a familiar gesture, she thought to herself, leaning into him and shifting her weight so that she'd be easier to carry.

"I missed you," she yawned, exhaustion already beginning to cloud her brain, "I love you."


End file.
